


I am beyond fake

by cherryvanilla



Series: Seven Minutes [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Fake Dating, First Time, Fuckbuddies, Gossip, High School, Humor, M/M, Prom, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been exactly 24 hours since Kyle was in seven minutes in heaven with Cartman and he hasn’t thought of anything else but the feel of his lips and the press of his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am beyond fake

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this months ago and finally finished. I've gone back and changed when the previous story was supposed to take place, since I messed up my own continuity. This is ridiculous and over the top, just like the show. Hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
> Past Stan/Kyle. 
> 
> The boys are 16.
> 
> Title by Hole. 
> 
> Gratuitous references to Saved by the Bell and Pretty in Pink. Proceed with caution.

It’s been exactly 24 hours since Kyle was in seven minutes in heaven with Cartman and he hasn’t thought of anything else but the feel of his lips and the press of his body. Stan gave him weary glances the entire way home and after they’d walked Wendy to her door he’d finally said, ‘Kenny says you guys were in bed together.” 

“Kenny’s high off his ass,” Kyle said dismissively. 

“Kyle,” Stan replied, voice serious, and laid a hand on Kyle’s arm. 

Kyle turned to face him. “Yeah, we were.” 

Stan nodded, a little quickly. “I’m not exactly surprised. S’all anyone really says; how you two fight like a married couple.” 

Kyle gave him an uncomfortable look and shrugged. “Can we not make this a thing?” 

“Wendy and I are pretty serious right now,” Stan decided to say in response. Like that was a logical segue. It set Kyle’s teeth on edge. 

He bundled his scarf around his neck and kept walking. “I know that.” 

The last time Stan had kissed him had been six months ago. They’d made out and didn’t touch each other below the belt and it went on for a week or two of secret glances and a heady rush of excitement and then Wendy wanted to get back together and Stan had said yes. 

“Stop making this about you, Stan,” Kyle said, walking a little faster. And the thing was, it wasn’t. Kyle wasn’t thinking of Stan when he and Cartman had lazily kissed after coming, didn’t think of him as they didn’t stop for at least five more minutes after Kenny had opened the door. Didn’t think of him as they’d staggered out of Craig’s house and Cartman had walked down the road to his house in the opposite direction, looking back at Kyle twice. 

And maybe those words hurt Stan a little but Kyle’d been hurt in the past too. 

Stan thankfully shut up about it all. Except to say, “I just hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Ugh.  
______________________

So now he’s sitting in his bedroom, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh as he palms his dick absently through his jeans and recalls the slow slide of slick lips against his throat. His phone buzzes at that moment.

Speak of the devil. 

_wat r u doin_

Kyle wants to tell him exactly what he’s doing, but holds back. _hanging in my room_.

The reply is immediate. _sounds fuckin boring. I want you._

He should ignore it, or tell him to fuck of, or at least roll his eyes to himself. Instead, his cock gets half-hard and he types back, _Where?_

_my house. my mom isn’t home_

Kyle pulls on his hat, coat, and shoes and is out the door in a minute. He walks the short distance to Cartman’s house, heart pounding the entire way there. His skin tingles with the thought of what they might do in Cartman’s room. It’s ridiculous how actually coming with someone else has made him want to do it again and again. He’d recognized an attraction to Cartman prior to this, always wondered why sometimes when they traded verbal spars it excited him to the point that he’d find himself with a semi by the end of it. He’d told himself it was an adrenaline thing; that no one got him going the way Cartman did but the party left no room for debate. Honestly, it was the best kind of tension relief. 

Kyle knocks on the door and it swings open immediately. 

“You look like shit,” Cartman says. 

Kyle frowns and feels his face, cold from the harsh air and probably wind-burned too. He took in Cartman’s body beneath his t-shirt, the way his thighs filled out his jeans, the way his hair was a little mussed as if he’d just woken up. “Thanks, you look like a turd as well.” 

Kyle shuts the door behind him and finds Cartman right up in his face. 

“Are your lips cold?” he asks, breathing against Kyle’s jaw. 

“It’s freezing, of course they are,” Kyle says, trying to suppress a shudder in spite himself, body arching on its own accord to brush against Cartman’s. 

“Mmm…” he says, and then presses their mouths together. Cartman’s lips are shockingly warm against his and in a second they’re off and running like it’s last night all over again in its urgency. They stumble to the couch and Cartman pulls Kyle down onto him, Kyle’s legs straddling his thighs as they rut together hard and fast. 

“I can’t stand your fucking hat,” Cartman groans, pulling it off and throwing it to the side. 

“Fuck you, ass-wipe,” Kyle grits out, dragging his cock against Cartman’s as he fists his fingers in Kyle’s hair. 

Cartman growls. “I can’t respond while you’re doing that.” 

“So don’t fucking talk, genius,” Kyle says, before holding Cartman by the shoulders and kissing him again. 

‘Fuck, your mouth,” Cartman groans, biting at it roughly. “You’re a Jew, you shouldn’t taste so fucking sweet.” 

Kyle grins and palms his hands down Cartman’s sides. There’s still something to grab onto, he isn’t ‘Stan Thin’ but there isn’t much anymore. 

Cartman’s hands move to cup Kyle’s ass, and he says on a gasp, “Let’s go to my room.” 

Once there, Cartman throws him down on the bed and then presses his weight into Kyle. Kyle surges upward and they kiss again, messy and wanting. 

They fumble for each other’s zippers and nearly gasp in relief when their hands find one another’s cocks. 

Cartman pulls away, only to lick his hand lewdly and return it with a vengeance. Kyle gasps loudly as they stroke one another hard and fast, kissing the entire time. They push at their clothes so their pants are pooled around their thighs and rock together, desperately. 

Cartman rolls them over so Kyle’s on top, squeezing his ass firmly. Kyle pants against him, his breath erratic and hot like fire, and his body fraught with tension. 

“Eric!” 

They freeze at the sound of Cartman’s mom. Cartman’s eyes widen and his hands still on Kyle’s hips. 

“Whattdya want, mom?!” he shouts, lips skimming against Kyle’s jaw. 

“Want to watch a movie, sweetie pie? I have the new Channing Tatum film.” 

Kyle can’t help but smirk despite the situation and mouths, “Channing Tatum?”

“Shut. Up,” Cartman mouths back before calling out, “No, I’m busy!” 

“Alright, hon. Well, if you and your friend want, there’s popcorn and soda.” 

Kyle’s eyes grow large at that but Mrs. Cartman continues, “I saw his hat down here. Kyle, right?” 

Cartman groans. “Yes. Alright. Bye!” 

Their eyes lock and suddenly Kyle bursts into sputtering laugher, unable to stop. Cartman glowers at him but soon can’t help joining in. He slaps Kyle’s ass and Kyle sobers immediately, biting back a grunt. 

“Come on,” Cartman whispers. “I wanna make you come.” 

“Fuck, yes,” Kyle moans, twisting his fingers in Cartman’s hair. They begin moving with purpose, the bed shaking against the wall as they muffle their groans with their lips.

“Shit,” Cartman breathes as he comes. 

“Yeah,” Kyle agrees, the word a breathless sigh. 

“You’re a fucking wild one,” Cartman drawls, sounding sleepy. 

Kyle rolls off him, the mattress squeezing beneath him. “It’s my Jersey blood.” 

“Must be.” He must be really blissed-out if he wasn’t going to make a comment about that. Kyle loves that he’s found a way to actually shut Cartman up. 

Cartman’s looking at him, eyes raking over his body, down to his groin where his cock still hung lewd and half-hard out of his pants. 

“How long before you can go again, fire crotch?” 

Kyle wrinkles his nose up. “You’re so fucking cheesy, fat-ass.” His dick twitches painfully anyway. They don’t leave the room for another hour. 

____________________________  


The next morning at the bus stop, Cartman is the last to arrive. He claims his spot, looking down the line while nodding. “Hippie, Jew, white trash.”  


Kyle’s face feels heated but he hopes he can play it off as the cold weather. Kenny’s lost in his world of music and doesn’t acknowledge Cartman.  


“Cartman; always a pleasure,” Stan says, dryly.  


Kyle leans back a little, bouncing on his heels, and finds Cartman watching him. His stomach flutters and he immediately turns away, sneaking a glance at Stan who greets him with a raised eyebrow. Kyle ignores him and if anyone notices he’s abnormally quite, they thankfully don't say anything. Kyle sits next to Stan on the bus as usual, Kenny and Cartman behind them. Kyle feels a kick to his leg under the set and shakes off a grin, giving a kick back with his heel.  


______________________  


Kyle arrives at lunch late, after meeting his pre-calculus teacher, and he can’t find Stan or Kenny. He’s on line when Cartman comes up beside him.  


“You’d better not think about taking the last of the tater tots, you heartless Jew.”  


Kyle rolls his eyes, not looking at him. “They’ll put out a new batch right away.”  


“I don’t care, I don’t wanna wait.”  


Kyle lifts his tray to the lunch lady. ‘Then maybe we’ll have to _share_.”  


Cartman snorts. “Your people don’t know the concept.’  


Yet this is exactly what they end up doing; sitting together and eating while Cartman lifts tater tots of Kyle’s plate, both of them sneaking glances at each other.  


“Did your mom say anything after I left?’ Kyle asks, quietly.  


Cartman shrugs. “Not really. Wouldn’t be surprised if I came home to a box of condoms in my room, though.”  


Kyle chokes on his Snapple and levels Cartman with a stare. “Please tell me you’re joking.”  


Cartman shrugs again, peering at Kyle through lowered eyelashes. “Think you were kinda loud that second time.”  


Kyle flushes at the memory.  


(Cartman had sucked him off, hard and fast and Kyle had barely lasted three minutes before he was coming in Cartman’s mouth, pulling the pillow to his face but still unable to silence the loud moans falling from his lips.  


Catman had swallowed and Kyle had blinked at him in surprise.  


“First blowjob?” Cartman had asked, but his voice was guarded.  


“Yeah,” Kyle had breathed.  


Cartman had smirked with satisfaction. “Still hate me?”  


“Always,” Kyle had said but even he hadn’t believed it.)  


He looks across the lunch table at Cartman and knows he’s remembering the same thing.  


“You don’t care that your mom knows?”  


“Only if she bugs me about it.”  


Kyle nods jerkily. He doesn’t really know what they’re doing or if they’re gonna do it again. After lunch they walk outside to the playground. The regular crowd is hanging around. As they approach together, everyone abruptly stops talking.  


“What?” Kyle asks, his defenses immediately up. “What’s going on?”  


“Surprised to see you guys, is all. We kinda thought you were still playing seven minutes in heaven,” Bebe smirks.  


Kyle rolls his eyes as nearly everyone starts laughing. “You guys are pathetic.”  


“Leave Kyle alone, guys,” Wendy says.  


“Eh, what am I, invisible?” Cartman yells.  


“To me, yes,” Wendy replies, ignoring Cartman as he flips her off.  


“This is why I didn’t want to play that game,” Kyle says to Bebe, testily.  


“Awww, but Kenny says you two looked adorable under the blankets.”  


Stan groans into his hand, Kenny pulls his hood up over his face and tries to disappear, and Kyle just wants to burn the school down.  


“That’s it! I’m outta here,” he yells before walking past the blacktop and onto the grass. He hears footsteps approaching behind him and expects it to be Stan.  


“Yo, Jew!”  


Kyle groans. “What do you want?”  


Cartman jogs up beside him, panting a little. “Why are you letting those ass-wipes get to you?”  


He wasn’t sure why he was, actually. He should be used to the bullshit by now, especially a Monday after weekend gossip, but it’s never really been fully directed at him before. It feels weird, everyone knowing his and Cartman’s business like that.  


“It’s just fucking stupid, is all. We’re in high school now, not elementary school.”  


Cartman laughs and bumps Kyle’s shoulder with his own. “Newsflash, fire crotch; this is how high school kids act.”  


Kyle glares at him. “Stop calling me that.”  


Cartman bumps at him again. “But it suits you so well.”  


“You’re impossible.”  


“You wanna skip your last two periods and suck me off?”  


Kyle shivers, yet pushes it aside. “So they can talk even more?”  


Cartman shrugs. “Fuck ‘em.”  


It’s probably the smartest thing he’s said in a while.  


_____________  


Honestly, Kyle’s surprised at how little things have changed between them since hooking up. It’s been going for a few weeks now and everything is mostly the same. Cartman calls him a Jew, Kyle calls him a bigoted fat-ass (while Cartman repeatedly reminds him he’s not fat anymore) and they go about their days as usual. Except now they share heated glances at the bus stop and Cartman writes him notes in class that consist of _god, your mouth last night. I’m getting a chubby just thinking about it_ instead of _I just want to say that I don’t hate you because you’re Jewish. I hate you because you’re Jewish AND a ginger_. 

They hang out with Stan and Kenny still after school, when neither of them are off screwing their respective partners. With Stan that’s naturally Wendy. With Kenny it could be Bebe or Heather or Kelly or Jennifer. Normally Bebe, though. When it’s the four of them, it’s not really any different. It’s not like him and Cartman want each other every single second. They play video games and argue and Stan still gets exasperated and sticks up for Kyle when Cartman’s being an ass. Although Cartman does say, “When you’re blowing him on the regular, Stan, then you can tell me how to talk to him,” while Kenny just laughs. 

When it’s just Kyle and Cartman, which it is more often as of late, the only addition to the snark is sex. Really, truly great sex that makes Kyle nearly want to skip down the damn street to his house. And Kyle doesn’t _skip_. Cartman loves for Kyle to be on top, loves for their bodies to move together, fast, rushed and heated. 

They make out, rub together, blow each other, and recently graduated to 69’ing, in which Cartman’s tongue also decided it wanted to slip inside Kyle’s ass and Kyle might have hesitated at first but he was sixteen and too far gone to think about it. In the end, he just groaned into the sheets and pushed back against him. 

And it wasn’t like they were going on dates or anything. Not at all. It was just that Kenny and Stan were normally off with girls on the weekends now and Kyle didn’t really hang around with anyone else like that, everyone kind of had their set individual duos when the gang wasn’t hanging out all together; Craig and Clyde, Jimmy and Timmy, Butters and Token. So it was possible he and Cartman were going to the movies or Dave and Busters by themselves, but it didn’t _mean_ anything. They still fought all the time, but now they were just getting their aggression out in bed.

It’s a Sunday night on the third week that they were… doing whatever it was they were doing. 

They’re in Cartman’s room; they’re always in Cartman’s room. Either his mom isn’t home or she is and it really doesn’t matter now. Kyle’s parents, however, would probably freak out. Plus, they never leave the fucking house. 

They’re down to their boxers, kissing, with Cartman up behind him, Kyle’s resting on his side and Cartman’s fingers are splayed on his hip and his cock is dragging slowly along the crack of Kyle’s ass. 

“So fucking hot,” Cartman says against his mouth, lips slipping down to his throat, sucking hard. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” Kyle gasps and covers Cartman’s hand with his own, not thinking. 

Cartman pauses, breath hot against his pulse and Kyle feels his fingers flex so he’s pushing upward, the digits slipping between Kyle’s own. 

Kyle feels his heart hammer in his chest. 

“Fine,” Cartman huffs. 

Kyle expects more, braces himself for the retorts but Cartman surprises him. His hair tickles at Kyle’s cheek and his lips continue downward, sucking at his collarbone. He rocks against Kyle insistently. 

“I love your ass,” Cartman sighs. 

Kyle shivers and squeezes Cartman’s hand. Kyle pushes back against him and he’s hit with a surge of want. They rock together for god knows how long, and it’s maddening, the insistent press of Cartman’s erection through his boxers, the way his balls keep slapping between Kyle’s thighs. 

Cartman’s hand reaches around to slip inside Kyle’s boxers, jerking him roughly. 

“You want me, Jew?” 

“Shut up,” Kyle breathes. 

“You’re so hot for it,” Cartman moans, thumbing the head of his cock. “You’re leaking.” 

They come like that, Cartman whispering filth in his ear about what he wants to _do_ to him while Kyle just gasps, “yes, oh fuck, yes,” as their bodies are pressed hotly together. Kyle’s eyes squeeze shut as he imagines Cartman really fucking him, being _inside_ him. 

Their hands find each other again and they don’t talk, the silence around them unbearable. They don’t move, either; Cartman just pants in his ear and licks at the lobe, his tongue dragging lewdly down Kyle’s neck. It’s soft, unhurried and Kyle’s not sure what’s happening here but he knows his heart is pounding and he’s sure Cartman can feel it. 

Kyle clears his throat and disengages from Cartman’s gasp. “Um. I should go, dude.” 

His brain feels fuzzy and he’s far too hot in his own skin. He grimaces at the mess in his boxers and finds some tissues on Cartman’s desk, throwing the box at him. 

Cartman hasn’t moved, and looks up at Kyle with an unreadable expression. 

“Were you not into that or something?” His voice is tight, guarded. Kyle’s never really heard him like that. 

“Huh?” he says, reaching down for his pants. “No, I. That was hot, dude.” 

“I don’t _need_ to fuck you, Jew,” Cartman says hotly. 

Kyle flushes as he zips up his pants. Cartman’s exact words a few moments ago were, “God, I wanna fuck your sweet ass.”

“It’s cool, Cartman. Seriously.” 

He isn’t even thinking about that. Well, not true, he _is_ thinking about it but he is also thinking about the way Cartman’s hand and body felt wrapped around his and how lazy it all seemed a moment ago. 

He just knows he needs to get out of here. 

He pauses after getting dressed. Cartman’s still in his boxers on the bed. 

“Uh. See ya, fat-ass,” he mumbles, body twitching the urge to do something stupid like kiss him goodbye. 

Cartman waves a hand, dismissively. “Yeah, see ya, Jew.” 

____________________ 

Things are back to normal the next day. They don’t talk about that night and the next time they fool around things seem back on track. They’re screwing around, that was all. End of story. Except he isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince.

He should have known life would have a funny way of screwing with his head even more. Because honestly, what was more fucked up then thinking he might _like_ Cartman. Like, really, really like him. 

It all starts a few days later. Recently, the school has become re-obsessed with gossip. It was the world of reality TV to blame, honestly. The school paper started running ‘blind items’ a few months ago. Clyde was in charge of them but no one really knew what that entailed. 

They usually went something along the lines of: 

**Blacktop menace**

**and you’ll never guess who’s responsible for the graffiti on the blacktop. Sources say it’s an 11th grade male student who has spent more than his fair share of time mouthing off to the principal.**

The top suspect around school was naturally Cartman.

Or, something like: 

**Love on the Rocks**

**this once hot and heavy couple is now said to be on the rocks after one member of the party was getting a little fed up with the other’s constant wandering lips.**

The top suspects there was Rebecca and Token.

It’s mid-day and Kyle’s standing at his locker, having only just opened the school newspaper. 

Kyle’s eyes narrow at the blind item, feels a tightening in his gut. 

**A Thin Line Between Love and Hate**

**Despite what they’d like you to believe, these two students have been all about one another for years now and have even hooked up. Rumor has it, however, that one member of this gruesome twosome is thinking about a certain four letter word. And it doesn’t begin with an ‘H’.**

He barely has time to even consider putting names to the words before Kenny is bounding up to him in the halls. 

“Dude, I’m in deep shit.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“This,” he says, pushing the same article at Kyle. “I must’ve shot my mouth off while high or something but fuck, now Bebe’s gonna think I, like, want something _more_.” 

Kyle looks at the blind item again. He never would’ve guessed Kenny… 

“What’s the big deal?” 

“The big deal is the _reason_ we work is because she fucks around, I fuck around, everyone’s happy. If she thinks I _want_ something more, she’ll drop me.” 

“Okay, okay. So just ignore it.” 

“I can’t ignore it! No one _ignores_ these things, you know that.”

“Unfortunately…” Kyle mumbles. 

Just then Stan walks over. “What’s up?” 

“My good friend Kyle was just about to get me out of a jam,” Kenny says, confidently, his arm thrown cross Kyle’s shoulder. 

“I was?” 

Stan’s eyes narrow between them. “Dudes, what’s going on?” 

Kenny tugs Kyle around so they’re face to face, eyes intent. “I need you and Cartman to pretend to be boyfriends.” 

Kyle’s mouth drops open, while Stan squeaks out, “What?” 

“A general consensus from the boys’ and girls’ bathrooms indicates top suspects are me and Bebe and you and Cartman. Oh and you and Stan were mentioned of course but the Wendy factor put you guys at like 5 percent.” 

Stan and Kyle glance at one another with a look of shared awkwardness. Stan breaks it by sighing, “How’d you poll the girls’ bathroom, Kenny?” 

Kenny grins like a shark. “How do you think?” 

“You’re sick,” Kyle says without heat.

“Guys, focus. Cartman is already on board. Kyle?” 

Kyle’s mouth gapes like a fish for the second time in five minutes. “He’s _what_?” This couldn’t be happening. It really couldn’t. 

“He’s down with it! He loves the thought of fooling his petty gossip hungry fellow classmen.” 

Kyle’s head is spinning. “Kenny, dude, I don’t know.” 

Kenny places his palms together and starts begging. “Please, man. Everyone already knows you guys are doing it.” 

Kyle’s cheeks feel hot and he hears Stan groan beside him. It’s his default response to whenever sex and Cartman are mentioned in the same sentence. 

“What exactly would I have to _do_ and for how long?” 

Kenny’s eyes brighten and he bounces a little on his heels. “Just at like you’re boyfriends and in love or some shit like that until Bebe is like, convinced. Right now she’s got this in her head, man. She told Rebecca.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” Stan says. “Even if they _did_ this how does that prove _they_ were the blind item couple? Why wouldn’t people just see it as a coincidence?” 

Kyle nods in agreement. 

“Already thought about that. There will need to be follow-up items. We can email anonymous tips to the paper and it’ll be like, about dates you guys went on what not and Bebe will see it wasn’t us. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Kyle starts and then Kenny’s words catch up with him. 

“Wait. Wait a minute. This plan is really making no sense. Doesn’t Clyde _know_ who the people in the blind items are? How are you supposed to feed him fake things about me and Cartman when he _knows_ it’s you and Bebe?” 

Something flashes across Kenny’s face that he can’t read. “No man, he doesn’t know. He gets fed anonymous deets and prints what he wants.” 

Kyle stares at him, incredulously. “That is completely retarded. How is he supposed to _reveal_ blind items if he doesn’t know who they are about?!” 

“I can’t believe this conversation is going on this long,” Stan bemoans. 

Kenny ignores him. “When has he _ever_ revealed a blind item, seriously, Kyle. This is the way all these gossip whores work.” 

“Ted Casablanca _knows_ who he’s reporting about, Kenny!” Kyle yells, determinedly. 

“Who the fuck is Ted Casablanca?” Stan interjects. 

“Stan!” Kyle yells, exasperated, before turning back to Kenny and wagging his finger at him. “This. Makes. No. Fucking. Sense.” 

“Well, whatever Kyle, I don’t know what else to tell you. He doesn’t know. We’ll feed him garbage and you guys will _prove_ that garbage is coming true and everyone will stop expecting me and Bebe, _including_ Bebe, and fully believe it’s you.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Kyle says, shaking his head. “And do you realize what you’re going through just to keep getting laid? What you want _me_ to go through?” 

He shivers at the thought of him and Cartman being affectionate with one another in public, at behaving… tender or something. Like… No. Not like anything. Because whatever Kyle thought from that night was just his mind playing tricks on him and he needed to be pragmatic here. This was Eric Cartman they were talking about. They were fucking around, plan and simple. 

Kenny stays silent and Kyle knows he’s waiting as he works things out in his head.

“Alright,” he finally sighs. 

“Woohoo!” Kenny shouts and hugs Kyle, bouncing down the hall. 

Kyle sighs and grabs his books out of his locker. 

“Dude,”Stan says. 

He doesn’t need to say anything else. They have their own secret language and what Stan just said was “Jesus Christ this is fucking weak and I hope you know what you’re gotten yourself into.”

“Yeah,” Kyle says which means, “I don’t really fucking now, actually.”

He finds Cartman at his locker a few minutes later and wants to slam it shut on his hand but that wouldn’t be very _boyfriend_ like. 

“Next time you agree to something,” Kyle whispers, voice tight and right against Cartman’s ear, “I suggest you fucking check with me first.”

Cartman, clearly startled at first, relaxes as he realizes its Kyle. Kyle can see the slow spread of a grin form. “Awww, is this our first fight?” 

Kyle groans and leans back against the locker next to Cartman’s. “Our fist fight was when we were four, asshole.” 

“We’ve been dating since we were four? Nice of you to inform me.” 

Kyle groans and bangs his head against the locker. “I hate you. I really, truly do.” 

“You wouldn’t be dating me if you did, Kyle,” Cartman grins back, toothily. 

“I don’t understand why you’re enjoying this so much,” Kyle says, skeptically. 

Cartman says simply, “I love making fools of my classmates.”

Kyle shakes his head. “No one’s gonna be made a fool of because no one’s even gonna know what we’re doing.” 

“I’ll know. That’s enough.” 

Kyle closes his eyes and feels the beginnings of a stress headache. “So how are we doing this, then?’ 

“Beats me.” 

“Should we hold hands in the halls?” Kyle asks, nose wrinkling at the words. 

Cartman closes his locker and starts walking, the two of them falling into step. “Would you do that with someone you were actually dating?” 

“No,” Kyle says immediately. It’s not his thing. That’s Stan’s thing.

“Then we should,” Cartman replies, his voice full of mirth. Kyle suddenly finds his hand enveloped in warmth, Cartman’s fingers folding over his knuckles and squeezing. He wishes it didn’t send a shiver down his spine. He wishes he didn’t love how strong Cartman felt wrapped around him. 

They walk through the halls to stares and whispers. Mr. Mackey does a double-take, sputtering, and then mutters, “Mmmkay,” as they pass. Jimmy nearly falls down and Butters literally faints.

Kyle’s heart hammers in his throat but Cartman just tightens his grip and keeps on walking, weaving them through the halls and towards health class. 

They enter together and Cartman doesn’t let go of Kyle’s hand until they reach their seats. Kenny and Bebe are in the class as well and Kenny gives him a discreet thumbs up. There’s some quite chatter going on around them, the teacher having not yet entered arrived. 

“Fuckin’ hate health class,” Cartman bemoans loudly. He reaches over and trails a fingertip down Kyle’s arm. “Would rather be studying _your_ anatomy, baby.” 

Kenny lets out a hoot while Wendy says, “Ugh, gross, get a room.” 

Cartman turns and smiles sweetly at her. “Oh, I plan to.” 

Kyle groans, annoyed, even though his skin is still tingling from Cartman’s touch. “Stop treating me like a piece of meat,” Kyle bites out. 

“You tell him, Kyle!” Wendy exclaims. 

Cartman rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, whore.” 

“You have _Kyle_ for that now,” Bebe sing-songs while Wendy kicks Cartman’s chair. 

Cartman reaches out and covers Kyle’s hand again. “We don’t fuck, we make loooove.” 

The room erupts in a mix of gagging sounds and laughter. Thankfully, the teacher arrives at that moment before Kyle’s face can get any redder.

When class ends and they’re on the move again, hand in hand, Kyle grits out, “You need to tone this down. It’s only the first day, my god.” 

“We’re _pretending_ to be boyfriends. You want me to be _subtle_?” Cartman hisses. 

“ _Subtler_ ,” Kyle suggests. 

Cartman snorts. “Subtler would be what we were already doing before.” 

Kyle’s body feels hot at the comparison. It’s kind of true. He doesn’t want to think about the implications, though. 

“Okay, fine, whatever. Thank god it’s the end of the day.” 

Cartman places a hand on his arm, stopping their movement. He leans in lose, breath hot on his neck. “You coming over?”

Cartman’s voice is low, breathy, and it makes Kyle shiver. 

He licks his lips, furtively. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Meet you on the bus,” Cartman says, lips skimming his throat. 

Kyle rocks on his heels and watches Cartman walk away before heading to his own locker, wondering if that last part was for show or not. 

________________

“Fuck,” Cartman pants above him. “How are you so good at that?” 

Kyle’s head bobs faster and he works the base of Cartman’ dick with his hand. 

Cartman’s fingers tug at his hair and push him down a little further, his hips pumping upward hard. “Jesus fucking christ, don’t you stop... I’m... Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

Kyle moans around him, already decided he wants it in his mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna… Kyle!” Cartman screams and it makes Kyle go off, his hips pushing into the mattress, the shock of the come hitting his tongue lessened by the sound of Cartman shouting his name to the rooftops. 

Kyle licks him clean, feels some of it trickle down his chin. 

“Get the fuck up here,” Cartman breathes and he’s being hoisted and lips are on his chin, licking up the fluid before Cartman’s tongue invades his mouth. 

He feels a hand palm down the flat of his stomach and then lower. 

“You shot already?” Cartman asks around Kyle’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Kyle pants. 

“Shit, that’s kinda hot,” Cartman laughs as his teeth skim along Kyle’s jaw line. 

Kyle swats at Cartman’s shoulder and flop down beside him. 

“So, I was thinking,” Cartman says, still breathing hard. 

“Always dangerous for you,” Kyle says, seriously. 

“Fuck-off, Jew. I was thinking about our big coming out as a couple. It needs to be dramatic.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Dude, you announced to our health class that we _make love_ and practically felt me up. I don’t think we need to be more dramatic.” 

Cartman looks at him, incredulously. “If you call that ‘feeling up’ I’m obviously not doing it right.” 

Cartman’s words rush over him and feel far too intimate. Kyle tries to shake them off. “What exactly are you thinking?” 

“I think we should go to prom together.” 

Kyle chokes on nothing but his own saliva and sits up with a jolt. “I’m sorry, _prom_? That’s absurd, Cartman.” He watches a muscle jump in Cartman’s cheek. 

“It’s not. It’s perfectly logical. What better way to convince people we’re serious?” 

It makes sense, but still. “Dude, prom is weeks away. Who says this thing has to even go on that long?” 

Cartman looks at him like he’s gained another head. “We can’t just stop before prom, Kyle. Plus, think of all the prom related blind-items there will be.” 

Kyle groans. “This school is insane.” 

“Agreed. But that’s besides the point. Okay, everyone is going to Chili’s on Friday night. I figure I can ask you then.”

Kyle’s heart begins to beat a little faster and then his brain catches up with it. “Wait, why do _you_ get to ask _me_?” 

Cartman looks at him, patiently. “Please, Jew. You are completely the girl in this relationship.” 

“Fuck you, fat-ass!” 

Cartman folds his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, Kyle, I can’t talk to you if you’re hysterical.” 

Kyle throws a pillow over his face and flops down onto his back. 

“Fine. If this is what you wanna do,” he says into Cartman’s Star Wars pillow case. 

“It’ll be brilliant, you’ll see,” Cartman says. Kyle’s head is still buried in the pillow but through it he can still hear something off in Cartman’s tone, wistful maybe. 

It’s probably nothing. 

________________________________

“He’s going to _what?_ ”

“Ask me to prom,” Kyle repeats. His head is pounding already. He wanted to tell Stan because he was his best friend but their aborted romance complicated things slightly. 

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Isn’t this going a little too far? You’ve been fake boyfriends for what, a day?” 

Kyle shrugs. “It makes sense I guess. With the timing and all. Going to prom would solidify us as a ‘couple’,” Kyle said, making air quotes and fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He personally doesn’t believe prom should mean anything at all, but then again, he’s in the minority there. 

Stan isn’t his Super-Best for nothing and naturally, calls him out on it. “You didn’t even _want_ to go to prom, Kyle. It’s not even who you _are_.” 

Kyle glares at him. “You think I don’t know that, Stan? Look, I wanted to tell you because a) you’re my best friend and b) I didn’t want you to shoot soda all over the table when he asks me tonight at Chili’s.” 

Stan manages a grin. “You know me too well.” 

Kyle smiles back and then sighs. “I’m not ready for this, dude.” 

Stan throws an arm around him. “Think of it this way; now we can go shopping for tuxes together.” 

“I hate you.” 

____________________

Everyone buses it to Chili’s, yet of course can’t make it there at the same time. They can’t be seated until their entire party arrives and naturally, Cartman mouths off to the standard, “Everyone needs to order something.” 

Cartman’s been handsy with him since the bus ride in which Token and Rebecca were too busy making out to pay attention to them, yet Cartman still didn’t stop feeling Kyle up. Kyle’s body has been tingling for a good twenty minutes now and Cartman’s hand sliding over the small of his back as they waited for Craig to show up certainly wasn’t helping matters. 

Stan keeps casting them looks while Kyle focuses on not getting a boner. Finally Craig shows up with Red and they get seated in the back, towards a bunch of tables pushed together. 

Everyone is off in their own conversations as per usual and Kyle’s listening to Kenny as he raves about the latest Kanye video while Cartman argues with Stan that Jack Black just isn’t fucking funny anymore. 

Meanwhile, Cartman is still touching him, just a finger against his thigh, lightly stroking but it’s there and like, no one can even _see it_ so – Kyle just doesn’t get any of this. At all.

After they go through the trouble of asking for separate bills and the waitress gives them a death glare, Cartman (who put his and Kyle’s order together) lifts Kyle’s hand onto the table from in between them and laces their fingers together. 

“Kyle, there’s something I want to ask you.” 

Kyle’s mouth runs dry and he looks around, sees everyone watching them. Just because he knew this was coming doesn’t mean he was ready for it.

“Okay…” he says slowly. 

Cartman looks into his eyes, and he’s really laying it on way too thick, hamming it up like usual. “Will you go to prom with me?”

The girls at the table all ‘awwww’ in unison. 

Cartman’s fingers grip Kyle’s a little tighter. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” 

Kyle smiles and he’s not really even faking it. Then Cartman kisses him right there, all firm and hard and passionate, pulling away as quickly as he began it. The table erupts into half-sarcastic, half-real cheers and Kyle’s definitely not blushing. 

They make out in the back of the bus that night, and it’s not even for show. Kyle’s just feeling… needy, sort of. And horny. And somewhat absurdly happy. There doesn’t even _need_ to be any feeding of anonymous tips come the following week’s paper, seeing as Clyde _witnessed_ the whole thing. Cartman proudly beams while reading aloud how a certain couple nearly made people upchuck on their food with their sickeningly sweetness and PDA’s last weekend and how there could be a very different version of Prom King and Queen this year. 

“This is perfect,” Kenny says, leaning against Kyle’s locker. “That ending,” he leans over Cartman and points at the article. “Asking if it’s the same lovebirds as last week. So great.” 

Kyle groans and presses his head against his locker after closing it. “I’ve never been involved in something so asinine.” 

“To be fair, I think you have.” 

“No one asked you, Stan!” 

Cartman snorts. “Come on baby, let’s get to class,” he says smugly, wrapping an arm around Kyle and leading him down the hall, while Kyle grumbles. 

 

________________

 

Kyle’s sitting at the desk Cartman’s room, doing his pre-calc homework, while Cartman plays video games on his bed and whines for the tenth time that his dick is being sorely neglected. 

Kyle’s stopped looking over at him by this point. “My full-time job isn’t sucking your cock, asshole,” he says, bored. “Some of us actually care about grades.” 

“Laaaame.” 

There’s nothing but the sound of machine guns from the TV and Cartman’s cursing as he berates his character in the game as if it’s the guy’s fault and not his own, until Cartman says, “So I’m gonna join the prom committee.”

Kyle nearly flings his pencil across the room as he swivels his chair to face Cartman. “Seriously.” 

“Super serious.” 

“You realize you’re taking this way too far, Cartman.” 

Cartman snorts. “Please, bitch, I live for shit like this. Elaborate planning? When has that ever _not_ been my thing?”

He has a point. 

“Plus, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” Cartman continues on, then gets an evil look in his eye and tosses the controller on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. “Speaking of which…” 

He starts rubbing his palm over his crotch, slowly, watching Kyle the whole time until before finally sliding the zipper down. Kyle lasts exactly two minutes, watching Cartman fist is own cock until he’s fully hard and leaking, before slapping down his pencil and crawling onto the bed. Cartman’s moan as he gets his mouth on his dick was worth it, after all. 

_________________

The day after Cartman’s first Prom Committee meeting, they’re all sitting at lunch, Cartman’s arm around his shoulder, stealing his French fries while Kyle pokes him in the stomach and ignores the gooey looks Red is giving them. 

He’s barely paying attention to the conversation, but finds he can’t avoid it when Cartman starts screaming right next to his ear. Cartman apparently wants a Hawaiian theme for prom. Wendy thinks that’s totally cliché and wants a Paris in the Springtime Theme since prom is in May and all and South Park doesn’t really get to have an actual spring. So Kyle’s ear drum nearly bursts after Cartman shouts, “That’s not only cliché , that’s fucking _gay_!” 

Kyle can hear Wendy’s teeth grinding from across the table. “ _You’re_ gay!” she shouts back, exasperated. 

“Exactly. And so I more than anyone know what’s gay. And that’s gay. Bad gay. I want Hawaii.”

“You’ve been watching too many Saved by the Bell reruns,” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes. “You think you’re Zach Morris or something.” 

Kyle snickers quietly to himself because they actually do lie around watching Saved by the Bell after sex, especially now that it’s on instant Netflix. Cartman mainlines that shit while Kyle bitches about how retro it all is. Kyle figures the role of being a good fake boyfriend includes keeping silent over the fact that they did watch the Hawaiian prom themed episode the other week. 

“Please, if anyone’s Zach is Kyle. And Stan is Slater,” Bebe chimes in. 

“Oh yeah, true,” Rebecca agrees. “Plus, homoerotic tension.” 

“Hey!” Cartman and Wendy screech at the same time. 

Kyle feels Cartman’s fingers dig into his shoulder as Cartman explodes. “I’m tired of all this ‘blah blah Stan and Kyle and their homoerotic bromance, wah wah wah’. He’s _my_ boyfriend, bitches!” 

Kyle’s eyes widen and when he looks at Wendy, he sees she’s stunned as well. Everyone else looks vaguely uncomfortable and Kyle’s just damn glad Stan’s at a different table with Kenny while Kyle played the dutiful boyfriend supporting the prom committee or some shit like that. 

Kyle’s not sure what to do to release the tension at the table, or the grip Cartman has on his upper arm, so he just reaches up and pats his hand reassuringly, saying, “I’ve only got eyes for you, Zach,” dramatically, kissing his jaw quickly, while everyone laughs. Cartman loosens his grip and feeds Kyle a French fry so it must all be okay. 

Plus the girls concede to the Hawaiian theme, and that was Cartman’s goal all along. 

Still, later, in Cartman’s room, Kyle can’t shake the feeling of how real and intense Cartman’s outburst seemed. Cartman flies off the handle in dramatic fashion all the time, and gets angry a shitload, but this was just – this didn’t seem like raging just to rage.

He can’t stop thinking about it, even when Cartman’s kissing him hot and slow, pushing one thick thigh between his legs. “Dude,” Kyle says, sighing a little as Cartman’s mouth trails over his jaw. “That was some good acting earlier.”

“Hmmm?” Cartman says, muffled against Kyle’s skin, biting the hinge of his jaw. Then he stills. “Oh. Yeah, well. S’what I’m good at right?” Cartman drags his teeth down Kyle’s neck. “Now we gonna talk or we gonna make out?” 

Kyle arches against him and the only sounds from his lips from the next thirty minutes are soft moans.

Later, he tries not to analyze the fact that Cartman marked up his neck moreso than he ever has before.

________________

Over the next week, it seems Cartman’s life can be broken down into three things: playing video games, fooling around with Kyle, and driving Kyle up the fucking wall with his incessant chatter (read: complaints) about prom planning shit and how Mr. Mackey is just destroying his vision. 

Kyle thought it couldn’t get any worse until Kyle’s about to head home on the bus, when Cartman corners him by his locker and says, “You’re coming to the meeting with me.” 

Kyle sighs. “Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously.” Cartman leans in close, and whispers, “What better way to show we're a couple than to be participating in school spirit type things that are also _romantic_?” He nibbles at Kyle’s ear as part of the rouse. Low blow. 

“You’re insane. Completely insane.”

He pushes Cartman away after a moment. “It's not like you're joining math club for me.”

Cartman stares at him blankly. “There's nothing romantic about math, Kyle.”

“There's nothing romantic about you dictating how to find a pig for a luau!”

Cartman flashes an evil grin. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Let’s go.” 

As he’s lead into the prom meeting room, Kyle fervently hopes Kenny’s dick falls off.  
______________

The sad part is no one even blinks an eyelid at Kyle’s being there. He’s offended, honestly. 

The meeting is ridiculous and Kyle would bet money Mr. Mackey wishes he hadn’t transferred from elementary to high school guidance counselor. He’d bet even more money he wishes he’d never gotten involved in extra curricular activities, particularly the ones Eric Theodore Cartman was involved in.

“Mr. Mackey, I really don’t see how having the flames of the tiki torches near the hula dancers’ grass skirts is a fire hazard. No really, I’m not seeing an issue.” 

Mr. Mackey rubs the bridge of his nose. “There will be no flames, Eric. Or real-life hula dancers flown in from Hawaii. 

Cartman hums. “Well, then, we’ll just have to dress up Butters. You’re not cutting out the live pig, though.”

“We have a budget,” Mackey says, reasonably. 

“God damn it, fuck the budget! This school needs to have some spirit. I mean, this is really just a practice run for the fireworks and the carnival theme I have in mind for our senior prom. I’ve already made the charts. I have graphs of many shapes and sizes.” 

“… What?”

“Can we discuss the flavors of punch?” Kyle chimes in when Cartman is glaring at Mr. Mackey, jaw clenched. Mr. Mackey looks like he could kiss Kyle right there and then. 

At the next meeting, Cartman’s focus is on the “Very Important” issue of prom security. 

“Mr. Mackey, our skool has had some serious threats to its foundation lately. I mean, you know all about the blacktop graffiti artist.”

To Kyle’s surprise, Mr. Mackey just sighs and says, “Oh alright, Eric.” 

Kyle, meanwhile, breaks out his Macbook and helps them pick footage for the waterfalls in the background. He catches Cartman grinning at one point, when he looks up from his latest find, and he looks almost – proud, his expression softer than Kyle’s used to. Kyle swallows and goes back to his task. 

That night, Cartman makes them send in a blind item tip about a certain couple who are supporting one another’s interest in the most school spirit-y way. 

And then they make out, so it’s sort of a trade-off.  
_____________

Wendy and Bebe corner Kyle in the hallway to make him use his “boyfriend” influence to get Cartman to ditch the cheesy DJ he’s chosen. 

“He wants to play all Hawaiian music! It’s gonna be like, steel drums and flutes and Elvis and shit.” 

Kyle blinks at them. “If you guys actually think he’ll listen to me just because we’re dating, you clearly don’t know him.” His voice didn’t even crack around the word ‘dating.’ He’s getting good at this. 

They both huff and storm off, passing Cartman on the way. Cartman grins like a shark and moves in for a half hug. It feels way too nice. Way too like something he could easily get used to. “What was that all about?” 

“Oh, just your unhappy committee staffers. How did you even get to be President anyway?” 

“Let’s just say Mr. Mackey himself has certain blind items he’d rather not be revealed.” 

Kyle laughs and they walk down the hall, hand in hand. It isn’t until Kyle reaches his class that he realizes he was the one who’d initiated the contact. 

_________________

Prom is less than a week away and Kyle’s supposed to go tux shopping with Stan on Sunday. All Cartman’s been doing the last few days is talking up his own tux and how he’s going for classic orange and a top hat ala _Dumb and Dumber_. Kyle’s reaction has basically been, “Oh jesus fuck,” and he even paid Butters twenty bucks to ensure Cartman walks out of there with a semi-normal suit color (he’ll take what he can get, okay?)

It’s Saturday night and Kyle’s mind is less on horrible tuxes and his own painful excursion he’ll have to endure tomorrow and more on the way Cartman’s fingers are grazing he’s ass. Over the last week or so, they’ve been – well. Cartman’s basically been fingering the fuck outta him, is the thing, and it’s sorta amazing. Just like one finger, mostly, but still. Kyle’s semi-confident he can take more, yet doesn’t know how to ask for it. He’s not sure he needs to tonight, though, because Cartman’s more intense than usual, over him, on him, and when he grabs the tube of Vaseline and slides one finger inside, Kyle just bucks up against him, kissing him sloppily. 

When Cartman finally has two fingers in him, and they’re sweaty and kissing uncoordinatedly, he just asks, “Yeah?” and Kyle gulps and nods because, yeah, _fuck_ yeah. His heart is hammering in his chest, though, and when Cartman lifts his legs over his shoulders and presses in, Kyle tenses immediately and lets out a sharp noise. 

“Wait, just.” He breathes deeply, while Cartman holds still, and then nods. 

Except its no better when Cartman starts to push in, he’s too tight, and. Fuck. He gets his hand around the base of Cartman’s dick. “This isn't working… you're too big.”

Cartman rolls his eyes, tries to go a little deeper, but yeah, no. He sighs. “As flattering as that is, have you ever considered _you’re_ too small?”

Kyle drops his legs to either side of Cartman and feels his dick begin to soften as his anger rises. “Well maybe if you weren't so gung-ho to get inside me, this would be working better!”

“Oh, so are you saying you require a copious amount of foreplay now? Do you have a vagina Kyle? Are you indeed a chick?”

“I hate you. Why am I letting you fuck me right now?”

Cartman strokes his thigh and pulls out until just the head is inside. “How are you even this tight? Is there a stick up there for real?”

Kyle groans and lifts his leg again, so it’s over Cartman’s shoulder. “God damn it, Cartman, just. Ow, that's my fucking _knee_. That's it, I'm getting on top.”

He pushes Cartman over and straddles him in one smooth move. Cartman’s eyes are wide and round, his hair is a mess and his face is red. 

“Jesus,” he grunts, sliding his fingers over Kyle’s slim hips as he positions himself over Cartman’s dick. 

He holds the base of it and starts to sink down, eyes not leaving Cartman’s face, whose mouth has just dropped open. It’s all too… intimate. Kyle should have realized this was a bad idea. He can’t do anything about it now, though, not when it’s actually _working_ , not when Cartman is about to finally get his dick inside him. 

When he’s seated, Kyle just breathes deeply, eyes closed now, until Cartman makes a small sound and his fingers tighten on Kyle’s waist. Then they’re off and running and Kyle feels like has whiplash from how quickly this went from horrible to fucking amazing. 

Cartman’s biting his own lip, staring at Kyle like he’s never seen him before. He’s barely thrusting, just letting Kyle set the pace and it’s so different from how he usually is in bed that Kyle can barely think. 

So he doesn’t, he just rocks his hips back and forth, lifting himself slightly, but mostly just staying with Cartman’s dick buried so deep inside him, rubbing slick and smooth up inside him. 

“Feel good?” Cartman grits out, and Kyle gasps when the head of Cartman’s cock nudges up against what’s obviously his prostate, and nods. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah, Cartman.” 

“C’mere,” Cartman says, voice barely audible, and pulls Kyle down so they’re kissing. He shifts his thighs upward, Kyle cradled in between them, and gets his hand on Kyle’s dick. They start moving faster, more intense with Cartman finally fucking into him the way Kyle hadn’t realized he’d wanted. And then they’re coming, mouths pressed together, nearly sobbing against one another’s lips. 

Kyle slumps on top of him, Cartman’s arms immediately come up to wrap around him and Kyle’s chest feels tight with an emotion he can’t quite contemplate right now. 

He’s just – not thinking, is all. That’s why he stays in Cartman’s arms for as long as he does. That’s why they kiss and bite at one another’s lips and don’t move until they absolutely have to because there’s still the condom to take care of come is a bitch when it dries and flakes on your chest. 

That doesn’t explain why they order pizza and lie in bed and lazily make-out and Kyle doesn’t leave until two hours later, with Cartman walking him to the door and kissing him long and slow before he goes. 

Moreover, it doesn’t explain why Kyle can no longer deny he really fucking wants to be Cartman’s boyfriend for real. 

He’s so fucked.  
_________________

The next day he’s walking a little gingerly around the tuxedo place, and Stan very pointedly doesn’t ask why. 

They’ve been there for far too long, already, and Kyle’s getting antsy. “Stan, I just want a black tuxedo,” Kyle complains as they fish through the racks for the tenth time. 

“I think you’re supposed to coordinate with your date. What’s the fat-ass wearing?”

Kyle groans. “Beats me. He’ll probably show up in purple, the dick wad. I’m just getting black, dude.” 

“Okay, alright.” 

They find their sizes and try them on. It’s as good as being in a tux is gonna get. 

“I guess when you find out what he’s wearing we can go for our lapels and the corsages. Wendy’s wearing teal.” 

“I am _not_ getting Cartman a corsage, dude.” 

“Well, no, but I guess you could buy his lapel flower. Unless he wants to buy yours?” 

“I hate this, you know that?” 

Stan’s grinning at him as they walk up to the register to pay. “I know, dude, that’s what makes this so much fun.” 

Stan probably thinks Kyle’s talking about the whole pretend dating thing, when in actuality it’s just the stupid prom related shit that he’s never been into. He’ll let Stan believe what he wants, though. The rest of it is just too embarrassing. 

When he gets home, he looks at his phone to find his first contact from Cartman since he left his house the night before. Since Kyle - _fuck_ \- lost his virginity, officially. 

_how’s your jew ass today?_

Kyle smiles stupidly down at his phone. Of course Cartman would seriously ask how he’s doing by framing it in an offensive way. 

It’s a sign as to how gone Kyle really is when he simply responds with _A little sore, but good._

It’s a good five minutes before Cartman replies. 

_it was fuckin hot last night_

_it really was_ , he types back, the memories rushing over him, making him flush. 

_ok see u at the bus stop 2morro_ Cartman writes back and Kyle tells himself he’s not disappointed. 

_____________________

He’s sort of embarrassed the next day, looking at Cartman in front of Kyle and Stan. Everything’s changed, not just the sex but – the way he’s feeling, that he can’t avoid any longer. Prom is this week and who knows how much longer this is supposed to go on after it. It’s pretty obvious the blind items have been about him and Cartman, even Bebe has to realize that. Plus Cartman’s giving him almost shy smiles and kicks him under the seat on the bus and yeah, this is just not good. 

Everything’s coming together with the big event. The leis have arrived, and Cartman inspects them at the meeting that afternoon. “Alright, so we’ll hand these out at the door and everyone must wear them. No bitching that it clashes with you outfit, got that Bebe?” 

Bebe groans. 

“Except me, of course. How else is the prom committee president supposed to command any kind of respect if he doesn't separate himself from the crowd? Oh, and Kyle doesn't have to wear his either. He's allergic.” 

Kyle’s head snaps up at that, from where he was playing Words with Friends on his phone. 

Bebe eyes Cartman skeptically and says, ‘Right, your boyfriend is the only one who doesn’t get to wear one besides you, because he’s _allergic_.” 

Cartman turns to Kyle. “Babe, are you allergic, yes or no?” 

“Uh… yes?” Kyle chokes out, still too hung up on the word ‘babe’ and how much he stupidly enjoyed it. 

Cartman flashes him a bright grin, while Wendy just snickers into her hands and Bebe rolls her eyes. 

Cartman goes tux shopping with Butters after the meeting, and Kyle’s a bit on edge, since he really wanted them to have some alone time, hasn’t even really _kissed_ him since Saturday. 

But all Kyle gets is a text regarding Cartman’s tux and how he should relax, it’s not an insane color. 

Kyle manages to find out it’s a shade lighter than navy blue and he can deal with that. The rest of the week is slightly stressful with the committee but he finally gets some time alone with Cartman, and it feels different. They kiss lazily and rub against each other and when Cartman moans how bad he wants to be inside him again, Kyle can’t get the lube open for him fast enough. They do it on their sides this time and it’s unhurried and hot and Cartman moans Kyle’s name in his ear when he comes and sorta holds him close afterwards. 

It’s kind of perfect.  
_________________

On Thursday night, two days before prom, Stan comes over to play video games in the first time in what feels like forever. The first thing out of his mouth, though, when Kyle opens the door is, “So dude, listen. I heard Wendy talking on the phone to Bebe and she was saying how her and Kenny are actually gonna be official now, despite all of Kenny’s talk about sleeping around bullshit. They're going to _prom_ together dude. So you know, you don't really need to go with Cartman anymore I guess.” 

Kyle blinks, stunned. “Uh. Why wouldn’t Kenny have said something?” 

“I dunno? It might have just happened, man. I just came from Wendy’s.” 

“Oh,” Kyle says quietly, looking down at his feet. “I mean, I already have the tux so I guess. Why not?”

Stan looks at him, eyebrow raised, and Kyle really doesn’t want to hear what’s behind that knowing look. 

“Just get in here and let’s play, okay?” 

Thankfully, Stan doesn’t bring it up again. 

The next day after school, they go out to buy the flower lapels. Kyle just chooses white, as it fits. It’s ridiculous but he’s – nervous. And he doesn’t get nervous over shit like this. Stan had arranged for a limo and after they’re all supposed to go to a comedy club afterwards, but seeing that prom is either about hooking-up or drama, he doubts it’s gonna go down that way. He doesn’t even bring anything up to Kenny, figures he’ll deal with it all after the fact. 

Kyle and Cartman go to the movies that night. There was another blind item in the paper about them, about how love was definitely in the air and it smelt like roast pig and Kyle was just starting to feel morose about the whole thing. Especially when Cartman held his hand in the theater and Kyle resented it, wondering who he was actually playing it up for in that moment. So he wrenched his hand away and didn’t look at Cartman for the rest of the movie. 

“You on your period?” Cartman asks when they exit the theater. 

“Fuck you,” Kyle says, tiredly. 

Cartman grabs him and spins him between two buildings, back against the bricks, kissing him hard and fast. 

Kyle grips him tightly, throws everything he has into the kiss, everything that says, “you asshole, I actually wanna date for real and I can’t believe this shit.” 

When they separate, Cartman just grins at him. “Lighten up, tomorrow’s prom.”

“Yeah,” Kyle says weakly. He still allows Cartman to pull him along with an arm around his waist though. 

The next day is a blur of dressing, pickups, pictures, and finally, finally the event, which they need to get to early to coordinate shit. Kyle’s trying hard not to remember the way it felt pinning their flower lapels on each other and instead focusing on the queue for the waterfalls and island images, and making sure the punch and snacks were ready to go, while Cartman made the few people who were already there put their leis on. 

They’re super busy until people start to arrive and then Kyle begins to relax. The DJ isn’t playing all Hawaiian music to both Bebe and Wendy’s delight, the tiki torches, fake flame and all (“No thanks to Mackey,” Cartman had bitched) are causing a nice glow around the dance floor, and Cartman managed to get some of the Raisin girls who weren’t working tonight to don hula skirts. 

It all seemed to be going well. He and Cartman dance ridiculously for a bit, to all fast songs, until Kyle finally heads over to punch table for his first glass, while Cartman’s yelling, “Kenny, goddamnit, put your lei back on and join in the damn limbo-ing! Where is your school spirit?!” 

He nods to Clyde, who seems to have been at the table all night. “Hey, man,” he nods, taking a sip. Yeah, that wasn’t just punch. He laughs and looks over at Clyde, realizing he’s totally buzzed. “Cartman’s doing, right?” He probably sounds way too fond right now. 

“Got it in one,” Clyde laughs. 

Kyle grins and shakes his head. Then shrugs and takes another drink. Why not. 

“You and Cartman… Congrats, man. Seriously, when he first told me about this whole thing I thought he was crazy but. Guess you guys make sense.” 

Kyle frowns, blinking over at him. “Huh?” 

Clyde waves his hands, vaguely. “You know, the whole blind item thing.” 

He’s sorta slurring his words but even so, something very important is clicking in Kyle’s head right now. 

“The blind items were Kenny’s idea,” Kyle says slowly. 

“Nooo, they.” Then Clyde stops, his eyes widening. “Uh. Yeah, uh. Yeah.” 

Kyle’s eyes narrow again. “Except why would you even know _whose_ idea they were – when you weren’t involved in this,” Kyle says, voice tight. 

“Um.” 

“That fucking _asshole_ ,” Kyle breathes, anger rising. 

“Kyle, look, don’t…” 

Kyle ignores him and stalks over toward where Kenny and Stan are hanging out near the bleachers. 

“Fuck you,” Kyle says when he reaches Kenny, pushing him hard. 

“Whoa, what?” 

“I just found out this wasn’t your idea at all, you douchebag. Why the _fuck_ would you let me think it was?” 

Stan’s looking wide-eyed between them. 

“Kyle, man, listen. You really should talk to Cartman, okay. He just – wanted my help with something. But. You need to talk to him about the rest, okay?”

Kyle shakes his head in disgust. “I thought you were my fucking friend.” 

He looks across the room to see Cartman still limbo-ing. He realizes that he’s about to be that person who throws a scene at prom. He really never expected to be that guy. 

He crosses the floor and comes to stand next to Cartman, who immediately smiles. It falls off the face when he gets a good look at Kyle, though. 

“You and I are gonna talk,” Kyle says, voice low and harsh. 

“Uh, okay.” 

Kyle leads them against the bleachers on the other side from Stan and Kenny. “I know what you’re doing, so you can fucking stop it now.” 

“What are you fucking talking about?” Cartman looks completely innocent as always. It makes Kyle see red. 

Kyle clenches his fists, and pushes at Cartman with one. “Don’t _fucking_ lie to me anymore. I know the blind items weren’t Kenny’s idea. I know Clyde knew about it all along. I have no idea why you fucking wanted us to pretend to be boyfriends, asswipe, but I’m sure it was one of your ridiculous manipulations and I’m done.” He pushes at Cartman once more, leaves his hand there, gets up in Cartman’s face and whispers, “ _We_ are done. So don’t you ever fucking touch me again.” 

When he steps back, Cartman looks stricken. “Kyle, no, you don’t--”

“Just _fuck off_!” 

Kyle turns and makes his way toward the bathrooms. He takes a few deep breathes and splashes some water on his face, feeling beyond stupid. How could he have ever let his guard down around Cartman that way? How could he have forgotten what a manipulative fuck he could be?

“Kyle, are you okay?” he hears Stan ask while he’s gripping the sink and staring at his reflection. 

“Yeah. I’m just gonna split, man.” 

From the mirror, he sees Stan nod. 

When he opens the door to exit, he hears some commotion and then, “Testing, testing, is this on?” 

Kyle’s eyes widen as he sees Cartman on stage, with a microphone. “Look uh, this goes out to Kyle Broflovski. I hope you’ll just give me a chance to explain, because,” he motions to the DJ and the intro to the song queues on. 

“Oh god, dude, is he gonna sing to you again?” 

“Shut _up_ , Stan!” Kyle shouts, eyes not leaving the scene in front of him. 

“If you leave, don’t leave now, please don’t take my heart away.”

Leave to Cartman to go cheesy 80s this time around. 

“Promise me just one more night, then we’ll go our separate ways.” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Kyle murmurs. 

“I touch you once, I touch you twice, I won’t let go at any price.” 

“At least it’s less embarrassing than _I Swear_?” Stan says, unhelpfully. 

He tosses a look at Cartman. “I’m out of here,” he says, and walks out quickly. 

“Kyle, wait!” he hears as he’s at the doors. 

He’s in the parking lot, ripping the flower out of his pocket and tossing it onto the ground, when big hands turn him around. 

“Get off of me, asshole!” 

He tries to break the grip but Cartman holds firm. “No. Not until you listen.” 

“What the fuck is there to say? You wanted to see if you could get me to go along with your schemes? Enjoyed making me look foolish in front of the whole school?” 

Cartman’s eyes are dark, his expression fierce. “No, you fucktard, it was the only way I could get you to date me!” he yells, the words tumbling from his lips. 

Kyle jerks in his grasp, mouth falling open. “What? What are you even talking about?” 

Cartman lets him go, runs a nervous hand through his hair, lips twisted into a sour smirk. “I. Ugh, fuck it, I was. I was falling for you, okay? I’d… fucking fallen for you, and I thought for sure you wouldn’t want to be anything more than fuckbuddies, was sure you still had some grand plans to gay marry the hippie after college or something, so I came up with this whole idea to just – show you what it could be like, alright? In hopes that you’d actually like it.” 

Kyle stares at Cartman, lips parted in surprised, stomach twisted in a million different emotions. It makes – perfect sense when you come to think about it. Only someone like Eric Cartman would pull something so simultaneously manipulative and ridiculously romantic. 

Still… 

“Why the fuck should I believe you?” 

Cartman sighs and steps in closer, tilts Kyle’s face up with two of his fingers. “Because I’m super serious in love with you.” 

Kyle’s mouth quirks up, feels himself start to smile helplessly, feels his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve picked a better way to show it,” Kyle breathes, resting his forehead against Cartman’s. 

“Yeah, yeah. Did it work?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle admits, reluctantly. “But it would’ve happened anyway, dickbag. Fuck, It _was_ already happening. You didn’t have to fucking Stockholm Syndrome me into it.” 

Cartman tugs his earlobe between his teeth. “Some things can’t be left to chance, Kyle.” 

Kyle shakes his head in amusement. 

“Now, let’s get back inside, I rigged the vote so we’d win prom king and queen.” 

Kyle pulls back, rolling his eyes. “You ass. I’m not wearing a fucking crown.” 

Cartman leans in to kiss him, slow and deep. “But you’d make such a pretty queen,” he pants when they break apart. 

“How about we go make out in the limo?” 

Cartman grins toothily. “Twist my arm why don’t you.” 

________________

The following week at school there’s a new blind item: 

**Why Don’t We Do It In the Road**

**This couple had a rather dramatic prom night and gave new meaning to the phrase fight or f--k. Nearly arrested for public indecency, this fiery twosome certainly made it an unforgettable prom night for one limo driver and scarred for life guidance counselor.  
**

**(If you haven’t figured this one out yet, I’m ashamed of you, really.)**

END


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